


Heartbeat

by crisdrafta



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Basically there's no angst between them they're in love, Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, but there's situational angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-01
Updated: 2017-11-01
Packaged: 2019-01-28 00:59:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12594488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crisdrafta/pseuds/crisdrafta
Summary: “We just fall out of sync sometimes. It happens. We just need to find our frequency again. Try to match our heartbeats again or whatever,” Harry joked.“Might want to write that down Haz, the next big One Direction single ‘trying to find a heartbeat or whatever.’”“I just might.”OR Harry writes "Two ghosts". It's about Louis.





	Heartbeat

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and welcome to my first published fic. Ever since the lovely Ana came up with the idea of "let's write a fic for each of Harry's songs" I wanted to do Two Ghosts, and I was lucky enough to be able to snatch it. I hope I did the song justice, Cece said it's "a collection of little moments, happy and sad and frustrating and comforting just like the song talks about" and I think that would be a very accurate description. 
> 
> I'd like to thank [ Ana](https://another-dreamless-girl.tumblr.com/%20) for coming up with his idea and getting everyone together, [ Cece ](http://larryandgaystuff.tumblr.com/%20) and [ Meg ](https://larrysgem.tumblr.com/%20) for being two kickass moral supports, my lovely wife, [ Andrea](http://louisysl.tumblr.com/%20), for giving me the courage to write this in the first place, and [ Edna ](https://literlarryreal.tumblr.com/),[ Bori ](http://birbalmighty.tumblr.com/%20) and [ Steph ](https://geeslouisee.tumblr.com/%20) for always having my back. Also, [Sus ](http://lululawrence.tumblr.com/%20) for being patient with me trying to figure out how fic posting works. And, of course, everyone else in this challenge for doing Lord's work. 
> 
> There's a scene in which I describe very vividly an intense headache/migraine so if that's triggering for anyone let me know and I'll add a warning.
> 
> Check out [my Tumblr post ](http://what-does-one-affects-the-other.tumblr.com/post/167047975973/title-heartbeat-length-10k-rating-explicit) and [ the entire challenge ](http://lululawrence.tumblr.com/post/167012789253/lululawrence-the-pink-album-fic-challenge-now%20).

 

**January 27th 2014**

Harry was tired. It wasn't just a physical tiredness, no. That he could manage. When one goes months on end with your schedule so packed that 4 consecutive hours of sleep are a rare miracle, one learns how to live with bone-deep exhaustion. In a sick way, he loved the tiredness. It was the proof that, regardless of all the criticism and hate, they got where they were right now by actual hard work. It was a comforting blanket, a safety net. He didn't know how he'd manage when they slowed down. If they'd slow down at all. He was a meticulous person. He thrived on routine, on having a to-do list each day. It just sucked that the current list involved him being away from his boyfriend for the next few days.

He hadn't seen Louis in over a week, and it would be a few more days until he saw him again. He was currently stuck in France with Eleanor, while Harry was in LA, a few days of laying low while Louis was stunting. Harry had seen the latest pictures when he was lurking online earlier, and Louis looked just as miserable as Harry felt. Between Harry's club outings and string of countless rumours about himself and Kendall, Louis' repetitive pap shots with Eleanor, and the fucking restriction on their public interaction, Harry felt like they were just two robots on autopilot most of the time.

No, not robots, at least they'd be able to do their job. Zombies, more like.

He scratched robots off the page with a thick line, the tip of the pen leaving a deep dent in the paper where he pressed too hard. He was so, so tired. Not even writing helped.

Louis fought with everyone they ever met for them to have more control of the writing aspect. He took the whispered conversations of "we can do better than this" and "this is bullshit, we'll sell out by next album if we keep doing this," and went chin up, shoulders straight, and fought producers and directors twice, thrice his age, with more experience in the industry than Harry's own lifespan. He did it with such confidence you wouldn't think he voiced the concerns of five inexperienced teenagers. He stood there, looked them in the eye with such fire, unmoving and determined, that not even the higher ups could deny him his requests. It came with a price, like all the things in their life do, but now there was "songwriter" next to their names in most interviews.

But Harry knew better. He knew of Louis reading every book he could possibly find, preparing for endless hours for a meeting. Shadowing their team under the pretence of annoying them (which was also a very called-upon bonus), but his eyes were sharp and his mind attentive to everything they did. Lists and diagrams and tears and frustration and coming up with 3 backup plans for each backup plan, just in case. Knew of shaky hands and deep breaths and sweaty palms. That's why he was ferocious in his writing. Louis worked too hard, fought too much for them to have this privilege, for Harry to do a half-assed job. And he knew Louis had him and the boys behind him, they all helped, but it was Louis who insisted to go into the lions' cage. And Harry would never give less than his absolute best in return.

Which is why he threw the notebook off the desk and closed his eyes in frustration. His mind was running wild with a thousand different thoughts, too loud for him to be able to concentrate. He always got so angsty and twitchy during the last days before seeing Louis. It was never enough. They had such limited time together, hours at worst, and he just wanted to steal him from this madness and just sleep with him in his arms. He wouldn't ask for more, just Louis and the prospect of a full 8 hours of peaceful rest with a heartbeat next to his. At this point, that sounded like fucking paradise.

He sat up from his desk and went into the kitchen. Louis got sent a new flavour of Yorkshire tea, “bedtime,” as part of the sponsorship and Harry might have to contact them for more. It was a decaf blend, mixed with lavender and spices, and currently the only thing that soothed Harry to sleep. He wasn't a milk and sugar man, Louis wasn't either, but he tried this with his mum for the first time and she took it that way, and with this particular cuppa it worked for Harry, as well. He mindlessly watched a short YouTube video while he waited for the tea to brew, smiling faintly as he threw the tea bag.

_ Don't leave it there more than it says on the package, Harold. The instructions are put there for a bloody reason, no wonder I'm the only one capable of making a decent cuppa. _

Ever since Louis scolded him two years ago, he'd always been careful while making tea. It was such a small thing in the grand scheme of things, throwing away the tea bag after 7 minutes instead of letting it sit in the cup, but it was worth it every time Louis had a satisfied smile on his face while drinking the tea Harry made. And it didn't hurt that his tea wasn't too bitter or too watery.

It was just one of those incredibly small ways their lives just became better because of each other. Perfect cuppas each morning. Cereal mixes that combine textures and flavours for breakfast. Sorting laundry by colours so Louis finally didn't ruin another one of Lottie's bras while doing a load. (Jay might have teared up and called Harry to thank him). A splash of sparkling water in the crepes mix to make them fluffier. Harry could probably write an entire album worth of songs about those small domestic changes. He was probably going to at some point.

He really wanted to, but instead he was stuck on the desperate feeling of loneliness, of how tired he was of sleeping alone in a king-sized bed. Dreading to wake up to an empty bed and a boyfriend across the world who looked just as empty inside.

He took the mug upstairs to their bedroom. It wasn't that late, only half ten, but Harry was dripping with sleep already. After leaving the mug on the nightstand, he took a quick shower, too tired to do anything more than an effective clean up. He stepped out and dried himself with a fluffy white towel and applied some deodorant before entering the bedroom.

He usually loved to sleep naked, so much so that it didn't bother him when he was sharing a house with a teenage sister prone to rage fits. But tonight he felt entirely too cold to even humour the thought. The room was warm enough, but Harry shivered as he changed into his pyjama bottoms. He reached for the matching shirt as well, but he ended up picking the one next to it. It was a plain white tee, a bit too loose on both Harry and Louis. They couldn't remember who actually bought it, so they took turns wearing it. It always smelled like a mixture of their colognes, and it always made Niall roll his eyes when one of them showed up wearing it.

"Saps" he'd shout, smiling.

No one bothered denying it. They were. And they'd probably wear that shirt until it completely ripped in two. And then they'd make sure to find it a new purpose. Maybe Harry could use the scraps as a headband. He'd get Lux to dye them with him and Caroline to hem it. It was going to live forever, that shirt.

He threw it over his head, inhaling the faint remains of Louis' cologne, more poignant than his own. He must've worn it last. It was one of the only things no one could take from them. They could restrict their touches, ban them for looking at each other, keep them apart so the taste of their kisses faded a little bit each day, that the memory of their voices were always accompanied by the static of the cellular connection, but wearing this shirt, spraying a little perfume on their own clothes, no one would notice but them. Their cleverness was unmatched.

He rushed through the rest of his nightly routine, washing his face, applying moisturiser and brushing his teeth before going back to the bedroom. He crawled into bed and under the duvet, plugging his phone into the charger and unlocking it. There were a few messages waiting for him, a bunch from his mum and Gemma, updating him on their day. Niall sent him a link to a book talk about a book Harry's been reading this week and complaining he had no one to discuss it with. Louis sent him a few pictures of the lovely winter landscape and added, “We have to come back here Haz, you'd go crazy for this view". That made Harry smile fondly. They always made incredible plans for when they'd be able to travel together, when they'd be out and could take as many holidays as they wanted. Harry always wrote everything in his journal, and when things got particularly bad, when they missed their monthly anniversary because one of them had to go out, when he couldn't be there for Louis when his grandma died, when Louis couldn't be there when his mum got married, he pulled out this list. He replied, "Can't wait baby," before reaching for his tea.

He made a quick note to add X-France to the list, and then logged into Twitter. He wasn't a big fan, there's only so much you can say in 140 characters and it was never enough for him. He liked way more his Tumblr blog, an embarrassing collection of Louis pictures and rants that everyone teased him about. But he knew that if he went there now, he'd probably spend the next 2 hours screaming in the tags about how pretty Louis was.

He was scrolling through his feed, a blessing after he bribed an intern to mute most of the fan accounts (not that he didn't love his fans, but there was only so much uppercase screaming about fistings and daddy he could take), when he saw a picture of him and Louis. It was from an old interview, Louis was wearing a grey beanie and a dark hoodie, the strings tied in a bow across his chest, while Harry was dressed in a grey blazer and a dark shirt underneath. His eyes were glued to Louis' lips, all subtlety thrown out of the window. Louis was no better himself, his face soft, a small smile playing on his lips. He couldn't remember for his life what that interview was about, or where they were, but he remembered that Louis' hair was so soft before putting the beanie on, how he complained the entire morning that he was cold, how they were so wrapped in their bubble that Liam had to physically shake Harry to make him pay attention.

He closed the app and put the phone and the now empty mug on the nightstand. His chest was aching, the pain spreading through his arms right to the middle of his palms. God, things were so much simpler back then.

He remembered going home that night with Louis and Niall, who had to pick up a few shirts that got mixed up in their suitcases. Harry was just folding the shirts into a bag when Niall and Louis hit the kitchen light with a football and broke it. It seemed like the end of the world, the darkness of the kitchen an unfixable problem that was beyond their powers. They called their mums in tears, and after they got scolded for playing football indoors, Jay called an electrician she knew in London. He promised to come the next morning, and everything was good again. Their biggest problems were easily fixable with a phone call, everything less daunting as long as they had each other. After sending Niall home, Louis insisted that he absolutely couldn't go to sleep without eating some cookies, so they went into the kitchen and started working in the dark. Harry was searching for the butter in the fridge when Louis called his name.

_ " _ Haz! Do you still have those candles mum gave you for your birthday? We could light them up, be proper romantic and smart about it.”

Harry had turned and looked at Louis. He was absolutely gorgeous, the moon and the dim light from the fridge making him look ethereal against the darkness of the room. In that moment, with Louis fondly smiling at him, Harry felt like he could brave a lifetime of darkness, as long as he had Louis and that smile in his life. He wouldn't need more, that was it. All he really needed.

He grabbed the phone and opened a new note.

_ The fridge light washes the room white _

_ Moon dances over your good side _

_ And this was all we used to need _

He threw it on the nightstand again and sank into the bed. Turning on his side, he pushed the knees closer to his chest and closed his eyes, hoping that if he could get small enough, their team would forget about him, and he and Louis would be able to go back to those blissful days.

\-----

Harry woke up the next day with a mouth pressed to his cock. He moaned, jerking his hips upward, pants and briefs already on the floor.

"Easy there, love," Louis said, voice a bit rough.

"Lou," Harry whimpered as Louis lazily licked a fat stripe from his hole to his head. His mind was hazy, still half asleep. He wasn't actually sure if he was truly awake, or this was dream, but he didn't care. He tangled his fingers in Louis' hair, softly pulling at it as Louis took him all in without warning. He was engulfed by heat and Louis started bopping his head up and down, sucking, slurping and moaning around his cock. He felt the vibrations all the way to his toes, which curled at the feeling.

"Ugh, Lou!" Harry moved his hands to the side, gripping the sheets until his knuckles turned white. He struggled to stay still, in control, and not just fuck Louis' mouth until he came. Louis twirled his mouth around Harry's head and gave small kitten licks to the underside of his cock. Heat was pooling fast and deep in his stomach, the sight of Louis' blue eyes, innocently looking up from beneath his long eyelashes while he was blowing him entirely too obscene.

"Not gonna last," he whimpered, pulling Louis up and clashing their mouths together. The kiss was urgent and frantic, too many days of missing each other weighting on them. Harry flipped them over, throwing off his shirt in the process, and pinned Louis to the bed, holding his hands above his head.

"How?"

Louis was supposed to come back home the following night, and as much as Harry was happy that he was home, part of him dreaded what that meant. And he hated himself for not even being able to be excited to see his boyfriend in their own home without fearing the consequences. Louis wiggled his hands out of Harry's grip and gently framed his face with them.

"Talked with management and Eleanor to change outfits and then hold the pics we took for a bit. Told them I don't wanna miss mum giving birth. Even they can understand that."

Harry sighed in relief and leaned down to claim his lips once more. The kiss was slower, deeper. The urgency was still there, he could feel Louis' hard cock leaking between them, but they lazily took their time exploring each other's mouths. He pulled back for a moment, taking a deep breath and admiring the lovely sight underneath him. He pulled Louis' fringe out of his face, hand moving to gently stroke his cheek. Louis closed his eyes at the gesture, and nudged Harry's palm with his face. He looked like a kitten, hair messy, in need of attention, pouting when Harry wouldn't keep petting him.

His heart swelled in his chest as Louis opened his eyes again, looking at Harry with such endless adoration written across his face that Harry's heart skipped a beat. He was both lost in this feeling that felt bigger than him, and anchored to this boy, his partner, his equal. His heart was utterly and completely in Louis' hands, his to take and protect or break at his own volition. But what kept Harry from floating overboard into a toxic zone was the absolute certainty that Louis felt absolutely the same. That Harry's heart stopped being just his and now held Louis' inside too. That Louis was just as open to him as he was, that they were each other's biggest strength and greatest weakness.

He pressed their mouths together once more, quickly trailing Louis jaw, before settling on a sensitive spot on his neck. He sucked gently, alternating with licking over it as Louis whined and shuddered underneath him. He went lower and lower, licking and kissing his neck, his collarbones, his chest. He playfully bit the gentlest slope of his tummy.

"Harry," Louis moaned loudly. "Please."

"What do you want baby?" he asked as he tongued the underside of Louis’ cock.

"You. You. You," Louis panted, desperately reaching over to the bedside table for lube. Harry pushed himself on the bed, hands beating Louis to it.

"Shhh baby, I’ve got you," his hands found the small bottle and a condom.

"No, without, wanna feel this," Louis gasped, taking the condom from his hand and throwing it back into the drawer.

They got health check-ups regularly because of the band’s policy, so that was never an issue between them, but most of the time they had stolen moments before concerts or between two flights. Condoms were time efficient when cleaning up, so they rarely went without them anymore. They only did so when they knew they truly had time to enjoy themselves. Oh, Harry was really on board with this. Taking his time to pull Louis apart was one of his greatest pleasures.

He put the lube bottle on the bed, and went back to take care of Louis. He started kissing the inside of his thighs, tracing small circles with his tongue the higher he went.

"Haz..." Louis let out an inpatient whimper, cock hard and flushed across his stomach.

Harry smirked at him, pressing his tongue against his hole without warning. Louis arched his back off the mattress, hands finding their way into Harry's hair, pulling hard. Harry moaned, his cock twitching, painfully neglected.

"Please, please, Harry," Louis cried at the loss of contact.

Harry went back, licking and kissing his hole, alternating with gentle pushes of his tongue past the ring of muscle. Louis was a whimpering mess above him, the sounds he made going straight to Harry's already painfully hard member. When he felt Louis tensing up, he pulled back, licking one full stripe, from the base of his dick to the head.

"No, no, Harry please. Please, babe," Louis whined, tears mixing with sweat down his neck.

"Don't worry babe, I’ve got you." Harry kissed him shut, simultaneously pushing a lubed finger inside of him. They moaned into each other's mouths, their kiss turning heated and urgent. Harry pushed his finger in and out, Louis moving his hips slightly to greet him.

"More, I need more," he asked, breathing hard.

Harry pushed in a second finger and started scissoring them, opening Louis quickly, but thoroughly. He didn't wait for Louis to ask for more, pushing inside with a third finger when he felt the other boy was ready.

"Yes! Yes!" Louis shouted, moving his hips with more intent in little circles, riding on Harry's fingers. He felt him clenching around his fingers once again, and removed them quickly.

"No! Please baby, want you. Need you," Louis was a crying mess, his hole emptily clenching around air.

"Just a second babe," Harry lubed himself up, and aligned himself with Louis.

"Okay babe?" Harry asked looking straight into Louis' eyes. The boy nodded eagerly, pushing his hips forward. They didn't break eye contact while Harry pushed slowly inside, feeling dizzy as Louis swallowed him inch by inch. They both moaned when he bottomed out, eyes fluttering closed at the feeling. He waited a few moments for Louis to adjust, watching the smaller boy until he nodded, before starting to pull in and out. He worked up a fast, but deep pace, searching for Louis' spot while whispering how good he felt. He knew he reached it when Louis let out a wild moan, nails scratching hard on Harry's back. He kept the angle as he pounded faster and faster into Louis, keeping a merciless pace.

He felt heat gathering at the base of his spine at the same time he felt Louis tensing up. He could've reached between them and made Louis come with a flick of his wrist, but he wanted the boy to come apart completely untouched.

"It's okay babe, let go," he said, pressing his mouth to Louis' nipple, gently nibbling at it.

"Harry!" Louis shouted, coming hard between them. He clenched so hard around Harry's dick that he didn't have time to prepare before the orgasm hit him, so powerful that he zoned out for a few moments.

"That's one way to wake up," he said as he came down from it, pulling out of Louis.

"Happy anniversary, love," Louis stretched, grimacing at the soreness in his lower half.

Harry stood up and went to the bathroom to grab a clean flannel. When he came back, Louis had already picked up the shirt from the floor and was currently cuddling in it, his fringe messy and eyes bright. His lips were red and puffy, and for a second Harry felt transported back to their first night together in their apartment. Louis looked the exact same combination of spent, happy and sated. He was a bit more against tattoos at that point, but his love and that fucking white shirt were just the same. Harry kept staring at him, couldn't take his eyes of this gorgeous creature lying in his bed.His mind was running wild.

_ Same lips red, same eyes blue _

_ Same white shirt, couple more tattoos _

"Come back quicker, Harold, I need cuddles," he demanded, frowning at Harry's tardiness. Harry didn't have to be asked twice.

\-----

"And I worry about her, she just accepted it because mom told her so," Kendall said, frowning down at her pasta. "She's just 16, mom shouldn't ask her to "cuddle closer" with her friends when they go out. She's just a kid."

Harry arched his eyebrow, reaching for his water.

"I mean, oh, fuck, I'm sorry. I didn't realise." Kendall said weakly, shooting an apologetic smile.

"Don't worry, I get it. And it's worse for you, cause it's your mum handling it. At least we can try to fight back as hard as we can."

He absently rubbed his anchor tattoo, still feeling it a bit itchy, even after two weeks. He was having lunch, or rather brunch since it was still late morning, with Kendall at Cafe Habana. Rande offered to have them over since it was good for business to get the exposure, but this was supposed to be a "private" date. There weren't any paps called, but Harry already spotted 3 girls at a near table, taking photos of them. He vaguely recognised them from previous outings, and he knew all the pics were to be sent to their team for approval. He was also fairly positive this particular set was to be kept for later use, a "hack" or leak to legitimise their relationship with unseen, intimate moments.

"Yeah. But we know she loves us, she just wants us to have more opportunities." Kendall paused, tasting her food before reaching for some salt. "She means well," she added quieter.

"I know," Harry sighed. He didn’t really, couldn't imagine his mum asking him to sign up for publicity relationships just to have articles written about it. If anything, she was the one who held both him and Louis, and told them that if they ever see the opportunity to end everything, she would support them no matter what. But he remembered thinking people knew better than him, that this was a chance to help his family, to bring home money and hopefully a stable future at 16. Feeling proud of himself, valuable, like an adult. Four years later, he never felt less childish.

He discreetly checked his watch. Kendall wasn't the worst company, but he was eager to go back home. Louis was sleeping off the jet lag and exhaustion of the ski trip, but he wanted to pick up a few things for dinner before heading back.

"Have other plans today?" Kendall asked while sipping her water. She paused for a moment. "With Louis?"

Harry's hand froze mid air. "Umm...I don't know..." he stuttered for a second, shocked.She wasn’t supposed to know, not really. They always kept the briefs short and strictly the essentials. Mutual promo, Harry needs it to maintain his public image too. Kendall wants to break it big without her sisters. 

She looked a bit conflicted, a glimpse of fear flashing through her eyes before timidly saying. "Don't worry. It was actually, umm. It was actually my own girlfriend who figured it out. We sort of googled you before our first date and she saw this post and. Yeah. I'm sorry, was that offensive? I didn't mean to be rude." she rushed the words out, her cheeks flushed. And  _ oh _ .

"Don't worry. Yeah, he's waiting at home. Sleeping." He paused, thinking about how tiny Louis looked wrapped under the covers when he left.

"And thank you. For trusting me with this." he added softly.

Kendall just nodded, eyes a bit unfocused. She looked relieved, but also scared. Harry could relate.

"Do you want to get out of here?" She asked, her entire face determined. "They got their fucking pictures, and while you're lovely company, we both have better ones at home, don't we?"

Harry smiled, already gathering his phone and wallet from the table.

\-----

He picked up some fish for dinner, knowing that Louis couldn't stomach greasy food after long flights, and mascarpone and ladyfingers to throw together some tiramisu for dessert. They decided to have their anniversary dinner in, both tired and content with spending as much time as possible with each other. He parked the car in the garage, the heavy clouds threatening to burst open any second. After checking in with Louis, who was still asleep, looking tiny and soft swallowed by the duvet, Harry went to the kitchen to sort the groceries. A small meow welcomed him, a pair of baby blue eyes looking up at him expectantly.

"Don't worry, Princess, I'll take care of you in a second," he said, picking up the small kitten and placing her on the counter. She kept trying to distract him, butting her head against his forearm, and after checking her food bowl and litter, he figured she just wanted attention. Louis didn't usually leave her alone for more than a couple of hours at a time, the novelty of having a small kitten still clinging to him, so she was spoiled rotten.

She was a smaller cat, born with a genetic mutation that would never allow her to grow too much. She was born almost dead, and her owner nearly rescued her, but he couldn't deal with the hassle, so he dropped her at a shelter. Harry and Louis were picking up some food for Charlie when they saw her. She was on the verge of being put down, the costs of her food and treatment entirely unjustified for the small store. It only took one look between them, and a "happy birthday in advance, love," and they were taking her home. Gemma and Lottie would take turns taking care of her when they went back on tour, but for now she was their little princess.

He prepared the dessert first, giving it time to cool in the fridge, hardly restraining himself from bopping Princess' nose with the mascarpone and cream mixture. Regardless of how cute she would look, they were the ones who would have to clean her up afterward. He settled for dipping a spoon in the creamy mix (after googling if it was safe) and letting her lick it clean while he worked on the fish.

After loading the dishwasher, Harry put the kettle on, knowing Louis should be up any minute now. He fixed two cups of tea, and was just nuzzling Princess’ hair on the small window nook when he heard Louis' steps on the stairs.

"Morning, love," he said, words partially muddled by Princess' fur.

She meowed, wiggling her way out of Harry's arms and padding through the kitchen floor to Louis' legs. She tried to climb his feet, meowing and puffing at her failure. Louis chuckled, and picked her up in his arms. Harry's heart swelled at the sight. They both looked tiny in their own ways, Louis still rumpled from his sleep, hair fluffy, eyes soft while peppering kisses on the small creature. He looked like her counterpart, an oversized feline creature so sweet, so lovely, Harry couldn't breathe for a second.

Louis finally looked up, smiling, and Harry knew that this image would stay with him for the rest of his life.

"Morning, babe." He padded across the floor, sockless feet tucked into the bottom of his joggers, settling in Harry's lap. He pushed his legs up, curling into Harry, and tucked his head under Harry's chin.

"I'm still tired," he said, voice raspy and soft. Everything about him was soft and warm and welcoming, all his defences down, trusting Harry to take care of him.

Harry circled his arms around his smaller frame, kissing the top of his head. He inhaled Louis' smell, clean and sweet, and pulled him closer to his chest. He felt small kisses pressed on his collarbones, as well as Princess' small licks on his arm. He wanted to freeze this moment in time, this bubble of peace and contentment, keep it tucked in his pockets all the time, so when things got hard and they were forced to see all these women basking in a place that was not theirs, feasting off of them, he could retreat to this safe haven of a stormy Tuesday afternoon.

Harry took their mugs off the counter, stretching his arms so they wouldn't have to move from this comfortable position.He silently handed one to Louis. Outside lighting filled up the sky, wind howling through their backyard. The first raindrops hit the pavement before the thunder came, so loud that the storm must be hitting close by. It sounded like the sky was breaking in two, but Harry didn't care. He cuddled Louis even closer, until there wasn't any space between them. The storm outside was picking up in speed, windows fogging from the intensity of the rain and wind. They both sipped at their tea, content with just enjoying a calm and peaceful moment. Another pair of tiny thuds was making its way into the kitchen.

Their other cat, Khaleesi, a fluffy white Birman with piercing blue eyes, made her way to their little nook. She gracefully jumped at Louis' feet, sprawling herself over them. She was very intuitive, always sensing their moods and feelings, always using Louis' feet as a pillow when he forgot his socks and was cold, always cuddling on Harry's chest when he couldn't handle sleeping alone. Princess meowed, demanding their attention. Harry scratched her behind the ears with his free hand, so Louis could stay tucked into his side. He would give up anything in life if he could keep Louis like this forever. Close to his heart, both in body, and in spirit. Just the two of them, and their cats, a little family, in a tiny cottage, with a garden for the kids to play in. 

Harry loved performing, on stage he felt like a fish in the water, completely at ease, the only place where he could feel like a fragment of himself again. But ultimately, if he had to pick between never performing again, and never being with Louis again, it was a no brainer. He would pack up his things, take his money and what’s left of his dignity and just leave. He would pick a small house, with a rose garden and his beautiful boy over Madison Square every single day. 

\-----

**March 17th 2014**

Louis' eyes widened, his mouth gaping hearing the words. The tears started falling freely from his eyes, a tiny sob escaping, shaking his entire body.

"Louis, wait. Fuck. I didn't mean it like that,” Harry said, running his fingers through his hair. He crossed the room in long strides, pressing Louis tightly to his chest before the other boy could process what happened.

"Listen to me. Babe, I don't care if it takes us 3 days, or 3 years to come out. I don't care if we decide to not come out at all. All I care about is having you by my side, for better or for worse. I meant it when I said we don't need no paper from the city hall." He pulled back enough to look Louis straight in the eyes.

"I already know I'm gonna spend my entire life, and quite possibly the next few lifetimes as well, loving you. I don't need anyone’s validation but yours. I'm lost without you. Deep inside I know I can survive without you, but that wouldn't be much of a life. You make me feel so alive, igniting a spark in me that no one else could ever quite manage to replace. I already feel like a poor, damned soul whenever we have to be apart for more than a couple of weeks. I feel like I'm missing something, my chest is dully aching for you like you're a part of me, a phantom limb. I miss you from the first hour you're gone, an all consuming homesickness." Taking in a deep breath, and letting a shudder wash over him, Harry continued.

"Christmas 2010, I was finally home, but it never felt like it. I talked so much about you, mum considered driving to Donny to pick you up since it already felt like you were in the house with us, might as well have properly been there. And that was more than 3 years ago. It was the first time I realised I stopped thinking about home as my mum's house, but rather a place, any place, with you by my side. I'm sorry for what I said."

Louis wiggled out of Harry's embrace. Harry opened his mouth to protest, but Louis shushed him.

“Let me speak too, Haz,” he said, his voice a tiny bit rough. “I love you, too. I don’t doubt that, I never doubt that. It’s one of the few things that keep me together, having you as a constant grounding point when everything changes from one day to the other. But that’s the thing. As soon as something happens to disturb this balance, I feel like everything is thrown off.”

Harry understood that. He could have the best of days, but it wouldn’t matter if Louis was feeling poorly. If one of them was doing something, the other would be affected as well.

“That’s why it hurt so badly. I know you don’t mean what you said. I know you just said it because we both got worked up over this stupid thing. God, what were we even fighting about? But even so, you said it, so this means a tiny bit of you is thinking it, even subconsciously.”

“Fuck, no. I had dinner with Jeff and an old friend of his, I can’t even remember his name now. He said something about how that Youtube star, Troye Sivan, wanted to make sure he was definitely out before he tried his hand with music, and how that’s much more cost-effective management-wise than slamming him into a closet and spending so much money on unnecessary set-ups. I didn’t even join their conversation, but I guess a part of me was still ruminating over it.”

Louis was silent for a moment before speaking again.

“And what do you think?”

“I don’t know,” Harry sighed. “Objectively, he isn’t wrong. But I don’t want to think about closets solely as a business gimmick. That would make us just as worse as them. But, at the same time, that’s our reality, isn’t it? This  _ is _ just another tool for them. It’s gonna be here, until it isn't anymore. They don't feel it like we do. Sometimes I get so confused, because I have to look at it as both something that we have to live with, and that affects us, but also something that affects the other boys as well. Our fans. Our brand. And it's horrible, the way I have to detach myself from myself. And it fucks with my head, and I'm sorry that tonight I took it out on you.” Harry said, looking down at his hands, flexing his finger, frustrated that his thoughts were so jumbled in his head.

“You never told me this before, love,” Louis said, placing his hands on top of Harry’s to still his restless moves. “I never knew this was eating you alive, in this particular way.”

“But that's the thing, I didn't either,” Harry said frustrated. “I don't know. I feel like I'm a mess.”

“But you're my mess,” Louis chuckled. “Fuck, we’re so bad at this, you know? Talking about things. Like, we’re ace at talking about our feelings, at planning stuff together, but we’re so bad at talking about what  _ we  _ are feeling.”

“Not really,” Harry said stubbornly. “We just fall out of sync sometimes. It happens. We just need to find our frequency again. Try to match our heartbeats again or whatever,” Harry joked.

He was actually a bit serious. He felt like, for the most part, him and Louis found a rhythm of their own, synchronised to a beat only they could hear. Everyone would tease them about their coordinated movements, how they seemed to mirror each other without even looking. And he absolutely hated it when they felt out of sync. It felt wrong, unnatural, like his heart was skipping a beat, and it left him dizzy and confused and unstable on his feet. And he hated how lately, everything felt like this. Like they were more and more out of sync. Like they were fading a bit more each day. Tonight was the most they spoke in weeks, about something that actually mattered. It was such a relief to let it all out, to hear Louis out. To remember how it feels to have a steady heartbeat again, not the sense of queasiness he felt for the past few days. To feel like a human again, not a ghost of a person. He could read the relief on Louis’ face too, igniting a spark in his eyes, making him more human too. Both of them slowly turning human again, after walking around like two ghosts in the place of the actual Harry and Louis, closed off and aloof. Louis smiled.

“Might want to write that down Haz, the next big One Direction single ‘trying to find a heartbeat or whatever.’” 

“I just might.” 

\-----

It wasn't that he wasn't proud of the song. He was. More than so, and that was the problem. He poured all his words, his feelings into it. He stripped himself raw and emptied his soul. And that's why he hesitated when Julian asked for their final list for the first fourth album mock up. He didn't want it to share it yet, he didn't feel ready. He didn't feel ready for the world to hear ‘Two Ghosts’ when they were still recovering. When they were still working on remembering how to be humans sometimes. It felt incomplete, even if the song itself was finished. Like it missed the part that said “hey, it's alright, we survived, we’re better now, we got back home.” He saved the draft in his email folder and pulled up ‘Where Do Broken Hearts Go’ instead. 

\-----

**February 11th 2016**

Harry entered the house still humming. He toed off his boots and threw the keys in the bowl next to the hallstand. The other set was missing, so Louis was still out. His mind was still reeling over the successful day they had in the studio. He was supposed to have a quick series of meetings with Jeff, Thomas Hull, Jeff Bhasker and the guy that was supposed to be their stand in guitarist, Mitch, to get to know each other better. He didn't expect them to turn into an actual almost-ready song they ended up writing and drafts for at least a few more. He always thought of himself as someone who worked better under pressure, but the absence of pressure turned out to be phenomenal for his productivity. He sent Louis a picture that Jeff took, of him on the couch next to Mitch, his hair completely covering his face, the whiteboard with a few song titles and ideas behind him.  He captioned it “Pugsley and cousin Itt send their regards,” hoping it would make Louis smile a little. 

He took a glass of orange juice from the fridge and sat at the kitchen table, whistling to get Princess’ attention while his laptop booted up. He promised Mitch he’d send him a hilarious video Niall sent him a few years before, something about a bunch of goats playing with a metal sheet. He knew he’d saved it in his drafts so he wouldn't lose it. He was scrolling down when Princess jumped into his lap, making him click on a draft by mistake. 

“Two Ghosts”

Harry froze, eyes locked on the screen in front of him. He felt overwhelmed by the sudden wave of emotions brought here from the past. He remembers the dreadful days when nothing felt right, when they were pulled in so many ways, by so many people, when he couldn't even glance in Louis’ general direction without having Eleanor flown over for the next few weeks. When he would crave as much as being able to briefly touch the man before his eyes. When they would rinse and repeat the same old stories, their tongue tied so tightly it physically ached sometimes to speak. Never saying the actual words on their minds, always having to stick to a script.

Things were not much better now. Not by a mile. Eleanor was gone, but other people, other things took her place. He couldn't, for the love of everything sacred, understand why it had to be them who always suffered. Why Louis. When he was the most gentle soul anyone ever met. When he never, not once, did anything purposely malicious. But amidst everything, their little safe haven was ever so strong. They both grew so much more since he wrote that song, they learned how to hold their hands and endure whatever was thrown their way, head held high. Together. 

He send an email to Julian about possibly using the song in the future and pulled up the notes he wrote in the studio earlier that day. He finished “Sweet Creature” that night, and the unfinished, missing part of “Two Ghosts”, a reminder that, above all, Louis is his home.

\-----

**October 13th 2016**

Harry took off his glasses and closed his eyes. His head was pounding, his eyes were stinging and he felt like a total failure. They’d been stuck for the past week, managing to complete absolutely nothing. If anything, it made him question even the songs he thought that were done. Nothing felt right, nothing sounded right, and he felt like it would be better to just drop everything, go home and hide under a blanket, forgetting he ever thought about making an album all by himself. But that would mean he made everyone work for nothing for the past months, heck, half a year if you counted the tentative work they did in spring, and that made him feel even worse. 

He went upstairs and grabbed a cool water bottle before dialing Louis’ number again. He’d been trying for a few hours to get a hold of him, and it was starting to make him feel anxious when, yet again, his call went to voicemail. His headache was getting worse, and it was starting to make him nauseous. He went back to his room, throwing himself face-first into bed. He stayed like that for a few seconds, before his phone pinged, making his entire head explode with a burst of sharp pain. He groaned, and checked the notification anyway. It was a message from Jeff, announcing that they went to dinner without him because he was looking too sick to go anywhere and making him promise he would go to bed as soon as possible. He sent back a single thumbs up emoji, before letting himself close his eyes. His headache was too bad to fall asleep, the light irritating his eyes. 

His mind was restless though. His self-doubt, his critical sense of self, everything was magnified and let loose by his poor state, and it was wreaking damage in his head. He felt like a disappointment for everyone who ever believed in him. They were all so sure of him, of his writing abilities, of his potential, of his undisputable future success, but he wasn’t even able to finish a 10 song album on his own, for himself. 

He heard someone opening the front door and dropping their keys on the table. Even that muted sound made him whimper, a few tears escaping his eyes. He wanted to tell them to be more careful, a bit quieter, but he wasn’t sure he could handle the volume of his own voice. He heard the footsteps coming closer to his room, slowly, as if they knew of his pitiful state and were trying to make as little noise as possible. He figured it was probably Jeff or Mitch, making sure he was still alive, or bringing him some food for dinner. He felt the person entering the room, stopping for a second to gently place something on the table before approaching the bed. It dipped next to his head, and he meant to tell Jeff to fuck off before the smell hit him. It wasn’t any perfume or cologne, thank God, because that would have definitely made him throw up. It was a clear smell of linen and detergent, but a combination so familiar and comforting, he almost felt his headache lessening. He arched his neck, wanting to open his eyes and say something.

“Shhhh. Don’t worry love, I know,” Louis whispered, his voice soft and low, placing a cool hand over his eyes. He half-spooned Harry so gently, careful not to disturb, not to make any noise. Harry felt his fingers combing through his hair in small circles, gently pressing against the painful spots on his temple. He rolled over, burrowing his face in Louis’ stomach, curling himself into his boy.

“That’s it love, make yourself comfortable, I’m not going anywhere,” Louis said, his voice still nothing more than a whisper. Between Louis’ gentle massage and his calm breaths, Harry felt himself drifting into a dreamless sleep.

\-----

He woke up a few hours later, head still hurting, but a soft headache, at the nape of his head. Nothing a cup of tea couldn’t shake away. Louis was sitting next to him in bed, resting against the headboard and looking intently into his screen.

“Hey, baby,” Harry said, voice deep and scratchy. 

Louis looked at him, his serious face morphing into a soft smile. 

“Hey, love. Head still hurting?” he asked in a low voice, afraid to hurt his lover. 

Harry shook his head. “Nothing a good cuppa wouldn’t solve.”

Louis nodded satisfied before pulling Harry up for a kiss. It was just as soft as his voice, their lips brushing lazily against each other’s, no rhythm or rush to it. Harry was the first to break it, letting his head fall against Louis’ neck. Louis put his laptop on the nightstand so Harry could throw a hand against his body and cuddle into him better. His body was small, Harry could comfortably round his entire waist with just one arm, but there was no better fit for him. He purred happily when Louis started playing with his hair.

“Now are you gonna tell me what’s really going on here? What got you so bad, baby?”

Harry took a second to respond. If there was someone he could trust with the ugly parts of himself, it was Louis. 

“I feel like an impostor. I have no idea what I’m doing. None. Everyone expects this Grammy-winning album from me, they expect me to know every single detail about every single thing because I fought so hard to get my complete input on it, but I don’t even know what  I want to tell with it. There are so many things to tell, to experience, to speak about, things that would please me, things that would please the fans, things that would please the labels. I don’t know what I want to say with this album.” He took a breath before continuing.

“We have so many songs written, but every tracklist we come up with, it misses something. We narrowed down two, but I don’t even know which one to pursue into actual production. I can’t waste everyone’s time. Nothing feels right.”

Louis kept silence, waiting for him to continue, but when he saw that Harry wasn’t going to say anything else, he nudged him.

“Tell me about those tracklists, okay?”

“So we have this tracklist, that’s basically our story. Already home. Endlessly. Wake up the sun. Two ghosts. Sweet creature. But I’m not sure if it’s the time to tell that story. I know for sure it’s gonna fall flat on so many people, and I want for everyone to know who they’re about when I sing them. And I have this other option, of other songs, trying out different things. Only angel. Carolina. Woman. But it doesn’t feel like it has a theme. Like it’s complete. None of them do. I don’t know if they’re saying something, if I’m meant to say something.”

“The way I see it,” Louis said after he thought for a few seconds, “is that you have to decide whose story you want to tell. Do you want it to be your story? Our story? Do you want to tell stories in general? You’re a storyteller babe, my little raconteur, you can confine an entire world in the span of a song. If your album is an anthology of stories, then so be it. You just need to sort out if you want to tell a personal story, or just stories in general. Or both, who says you can’t share your stories, and other stories at the same time? Because they all have something in common. You. You wrote them, you gave them life. They’re personal to you, even if they’re not literal.”

Harry looked up from his position.

“Marry me.”

Louis laughed, but the knowing curl of his lips said it all.

\-----

**October 21st 2016**

Harry stood in the doorway of the Jamaica house, watching Louis completely engrossed in his book. His eyes quickly moved along the page, a small frown appearing on his face as he kept reading. It was one of the things he secretly adored about watching Louis read (which he shamelessly did more than once), the way he lost touch with reality and instead lived side-by-side with the protagonists. He laughed and fought with them, he suffered when they suffered, he cried when they did. It was mesmerising to watch, and Harry would be eternally grateful to be lucky enough to be allowed to watch him. Not many people realised just how much Louis loved to read.

When their images got rebranded, he was the one that was deemed more “indie hipster,” the who read classics and poetry and wrote in a journal, and while that's perfectly true, Louis was far from the video game-obsessed lad they twisted him into. They both loved video games, Louis having a plethora of vintage arcade collectibles in storage in his public house, and they played more FIFA during tour than what many would believe to be humanly possible, but nothing compared to the freedom a good book can offer. It was one of their go-to strategies when they felt anxiety creeping in, to focus on a book and its characters and their stories until their minds calmed down. Louis inhaled and absorbed words, from psychological analysis to character studies, memoirs, or young adult books, his chase for a good story was relentless. It was one of the things Harry loved most, how their souls were so compatible from the start. The loud, flamboyant Louis, who took the X Factor house by storm and couldn't sit still for 2 minutes, dug into his suitcase and tossed Harry "the best book of all time, Harold,” when Harry couldn't deal with the anxiety and stress of the competition. Without once discussing readings, books or anything similar, Louis just knew. Much later, when they were tangled between a blanket in their first flat, Harry asked him how he knew that reading was one of the things that calmed him down. Louis shrugged and tucked a curl behind his ear.

"It was something I would have done."

But right now, he was spread in the swing, Khaleesi cuddling his feet, while Princess was curled up on his tummy, Louis' free hand absentmindedly scratching behind her ears, pausing only to turn over the pages. 6 years later and his heart still ached when he saw his boy like this, knowing that they were okay, they were alright, they were together.

Things were not alright, though. Louis still had to go back to two massive stunts that are chipping at him bit by bit, Harry's wrist was still acting up way too much for a simple injury that should have been healed by now, and there was no good news from London either. But they were facing this together, as a team, as two individuals who are both strong on their own, but stronger together. They were not fading anymore, they were not two ghosts. They were Harry and Louis, flesh and bones and limbs and sinews held together by love, and sorrow, wins and losses and mistakes.

"You're making the creepy sad frog face, what's going on?" Louis asked, eyes still trained on the book. He looked up before he put the bookmark in and set it to the side, changing his positing and patting the seat next to him. Harry sat down, his head nestling in the crook on Louis' neck.

"I'm going for the second track list. But I'll keep Two Ghosts and Sweet Creature. It doesn't feel right to tell our story when we're still in the middle of it. When it doesn't have the happiest ending yet. But it also doesn't feel right not to shout from the rooftops how much I love you any chance I get." He nuzzled his head into his chest, pressing the softest kiss above his heart.

"You're the love of my life and I'm so proud of you," Louis said simply, tipping Harry's head back and pressing a soft kiss to his lips. Harry separated their lips for a moment so he could climb on Louis' lap. He gently cupped Louis' face, tracing his cheeks with his thumb, getting lost in the unfiltered love written all over Louis' face that brightened his eyes. He smiled before he pressed their lips together again, this time kissing him deeper, more languid and heated. He left a trail of small kisses to Louis' ear.

"Mitch said you can see the Orionids very well tonight. You’ll ride me on the beach? Under all the falling stars? I'll look at them and wish for you." He asked, voice deep and raspy, pressing down into Louis' thigh, letting him feel how hard he was. Louis shuddered underneath him, rolling his hips upwards to create friction.

"Don't you know that if you tell your wish it's not gonna come true?" he said, panting briefly.

"But I already have you, baby. And you have me."

\-----

**May 16th 2017**

Harry absently tugged a few strings on his guitar, making sure, for the twentieth time, that it was perfectly tuned. He was more nervous than ever. It was the third time taping for the first performance of Two Ghosts, per his request. He wouldn’t have done it if he didn’t feel like it was absolutely necessary. He hated being that guy, who would use his fame and connections to make everyone do his bidding, make everyone work extra hard just to please his whims. But he really, really couldn’t screw up this performance. It was too important to him. 

They took a half-hour break, to allow the crew to set up the extra tapes and give everyone a chance to work out whatever made them sound off. Harry was currently in a private interior garden, abandoning his guitar to take a few drags from the cigarette he’d just lit. 

“Careful with that, I’m pretty sure there’s at least ten girls inside that would have a heart attack if kale-addict Harry Styles were to be caught smoking,” Louis teased before snatching the cig from Harry’s hand and bringing it to his lips.

Harry watched as they curled over it before parting to let the smoke out. Louis licked his lips slowly, enjoying the attention. Harry felt his cock twitching slightly in his pants, the sight of Louis’ wetted lips awakening him like some sort of Pavlovian reflex. 

“Easy there, princeling, we really, really don’t have time,” Louis said smirking, taking in another smoke before giving it back to Harry. 

“I mean, you don’t have time. I will go back to your dressing room, find the lube in your bag. Open myself up, all alone, on my own. I’ll think of you, I promise.” Louis said, so casually, as if he were just reciting a grocery list, not causing chaos in Harry’s head. He could see the image so clearly, Louis spread on the ugly sofa, face scrunched up because he couldn’t reach his spot, tiny, frustrated moans escaping his mouth, in need of Harry to take care of him, fuck him well.

“I’ll be ready for you when you decide that you’re done for the day. You can come straight in and take me, a reward for a long working day. What do you say? Do you want me to ride you in this stupid ruffled shirt? Or maybe you can keep it on as you bend me over the table, like some sort of Victorian prince having a torrid affair with a royal guest of his ball?” Louis whispered in his ear. Harry didn’t even notice him getting closer. He kissed him on his sensitive spot, just below his ear, hand cupping him through his tight trousers. He was hard, painfully so, and Louis stroked him once through the material before pecking his lips and turning back.

“Be quick, Styles.” He winked and went back inside. 

Harry allowed himself ten minutes to cool down, before going back. 

He poured his heart into the performance. He felt his voice break under the weight of his emotions, but it didn’t ruin the flow, if anything, it gave the song the vulnerability it was always meant to carry. He teared up as the audience faded before his eyes, as he saw two young, scared boys, on one rainy afternoon, cuddled up into each other, hoping for their peace to last a few hours. Hoping that the weight of the world wouldn’t break them, hoping they would remember how to make their hearts beat again, for they felt so dead inside without the each other, and without each other they always had to be. 

“I’m just trying to remember how it feels to have a heart...” He made a longer pause than necessary, shedding a tear for them, a single one. Because he felt his own heart beating as strong as ever in his chest, because he saw his own heart winking at him fifteen minutes ago as he walked into the building. Because he is not them anymore, but they will always be within him. 

“Beat.”


End file.
